


go throw your arrows

by johntography



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, it's what he deserves!, kind of jaemin-centric, renjun is the best friend we all need thanks for coming to my ted talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 16:31:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15976145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johntography/pseuds/johntography
Summary: In a group of eighteen people and counting, it's natural for some to not be quite as close with each other. When Yukhei puts his mind up to changing that, Jaemin may get more than he bargained for.





	go throw your arrows

**Author's Note:**

> hello! if you're like me and enjoy having some music playing as you read: [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3J2OoOHHU9ZjELkMO8L0iu) is the playlist i listened to while writing this. the order is not that crucial, but i rec _hypnotised_ by _years & years _ for the rooftop scene!  
>   
> the two referenced vlive clips: [➳ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-m_3nkcizZQ) (quoted in italics), [ ➳ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MdVIA0sNk8Q). a lot of this is also inspired by when nct played the i love you game, xuxi made a dumb noise as he tends to and jaemin gave him the biggest heart eyes and called him cute... that shit really wouldn't leave my mind  
>   
> if you want to tell me about any nct rarepair related stuff that won't leave your mind either, hmu :') [[cc]](https://curiouscat.me/shownuharem) // [[twt]](https://twitter.com/shownuharem)

  


Jaemin leans his head back against the couch, shoulders unwillingly shrugging up and down to the beat of the song.

It’s not in a language he understands because Jisung has taken to browsing Spotify the way a kindergartener would, clicking on whatever pretty cover art catches his attention. Most of the songs make for good enough background noise for the Dreamies’ dorm. The only one with a habit of complaining about it is Donghyuck, and that is only until the others assure he can blast his beloved Michael Jackson when getting ready for bed.

Donghyuck isn’t here to complain now. All Jaemin can hear ‒ eyes closed, recharging ‒ is Chenle’s enthusiastic greeting to the delivery man. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips. He’s given up on trying to make sure strangers aren’t appeased by his often hyperenergetic friends long before he could officially call them his group members.

“Hey,” a voice calls out. Too close to be Chenle who must still be at the door, counting how much he can tip without coming off as condescending. Jaemin knows he worries about this stuff.

 _Too close_ to be Jisung. Jisung doesn’t like to get this close voluntarily, no matter how much Jaemin would enjoy it.

“Mhm,” Jaemin hums in response. It’s as much in acknowledgement as it is a reaction to a sun ray creeping up to his face, warming his skin. In indecisiveness as to whether the attention feels pleasant.

“Are you going... Are you going out like this?”

Jaemin furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but refuses to open his eyes just yet. “Sure,” he says. “Why?”

“Ah,” is said. Soft breathing, broken giggles. Neither leave him a choice.

Jaemin opens his eyes slowly. His vision is full of _blueorangeredblacklucas,_ but he doesn’t blink to get the spots to dissipate quicker.

“Why d’you ask?”

Lucas giggles again. Jaemin purses his lips, meeting Chenle’s eyes from where he now stands in their kitchen, sorting through the bags of food.

“Just because. No reason. Was just wondering,” Jaemin doesn’t buy it, of course. He doesn’t ask further, of course.

He doesn’t have to.

“Well, actually,” Lucas starts, and Jaemin has to smile this time, Chenle be damned. “Jisungie said it’ll be cold on the street‒”

Jaemin smiles even wider at that, murmurs the Korean word for _outside,_ even though he’s pretty sure Lucas doesn’t say it simply because he doesn’t feel like it.

“‒outside, yes, okay, and so I wanted to check.”

“Check on me?” Jaemin asks, rhetorically more than anything else, to buy himself time. “That’s cute of you.”

Lucas does that thing where he half-scoffs, half-shudders whenever someone tries to charm him (that someone usually being Jungwoo, but since he’s been hanging around the Dream dorm more, Jaemin and Donghyuck alternate in filling that role). Instead of putting some distance between them though, he puts a warm hand on Jaemin’s shoulder and shakes it, absolutely not mindful of his strength.

“ _Nice of you,_ shouldn’t it be like that? Huh, Jaemin-ah?” Lucas yells, eyes wide and faux-offended.

Jaemin pokes him with his foot, laughter half an octave too high. It catches Jisung’s attention, but Jaemin doesn’t see him stroll towards them yet.

“I said what I said, _gege_.”

“Woah! That pronunciation!”

“Pronunciation,” Jisung parrots in English. He takes a seat next to Lucas on the coffee table in front of the couch, and the sun rays catch in his bleach-frizzy hair instead.

“Jisung, Jisung, did you hear? Jaemin knows Mandarin now!”

“Ah, yeah,” Chenle hollers. “You know, recently ‒ like, last week or something ‒ we were all watching a movie, Jaemin said he would join us later. But he never did. So I go to get him, and he’s sitting there, on the floor, with honest-to-God Chinese flashcards in front of ‘im.”

“Seriously,” Jaemin rolls his eyes, “you make it sound as though that’s something embarrassing. You should put a little more effort into studying languages, too.”

“If you wanna go on a rant about how important it is to communicate with Czennies, save that for in,” Jisung turns around to grab his phone. “Fifteen minutes. I’ll hype you up then.”

“Me too,” Lucas assures, and says something in Mandarin, presumably the same thing, fist in the air.

“Noted,” Jaemin responds simply. “Let’s hurry then.”

At that Chenle’s stomach makes a noise equivalent to a roar. Everyone laughs.

“Let’s,” Chenle says.

 

Ten minutes later ‒ because Jisung impulsively proposes to be fashionably late for their online rendezvous so he can play basketball with pieces of sandwich, Chenle’s hungry mouth serving as a basket ‒ Lucas “checks” on Jaemin again.

“You should wear a jacket,” he says.

Jaemin runs his fingers through his hair, fluffing it up, something settling in his chest. “Lucas, it’s fine, really.”

When Lucas looks at him this time, it’s different from how he looked at him when Jisung sat down next to them, bragging to him about Jaemin’s supposedly natural Chinese pronunciation. It has a little bit of the quietness Lucas displayed when Jaemin had first opened his eyes, and a little bit of the way he looks at the camera when performing _Boss_. It’s sort of authoritative in a way Lucas rarely is, despite being a little older.

“I saw this leather jacket somewhere around here,” Lucas continues, eyes unmoving.

“Do you think it will look good with my sweater?”

“Yes,” a nod.

“Alright,” and that’s that. Jaemin doesn’t know why, but draping the squeaky leather over his shoulders feels right. He’s too stubborn to wear it properly. Maybe Lucas will call him out on it? It’s a little big on him, anyway.

Chenle and Jisung are waiting for them by the stairs to the terrace, food and camera already set up by the staff.

“Hyung,” Chenle calls out. Both Jaemin and Lucas look up, unsure who he means.

“Hyungs,” the blond corrects himself, pointing between the two of them. “You’re matching.”

So maybe that’s why.

 

➳

 

_“I wanna ask something; who’s Nana?”_

 

_“That would be me.”_

 

_“Oh, you are Nana?”_

 

_“You didn’t know?”_

 

_“Nana, why‒ why Nana?”_

 

_“Because he’s Na, Na Jaemin.”_

 

_“My fans gave me that nickname.”_

 

_(He pats his shoulder once more. It’s gentle this time.)_

 

➳

 

 

 

It all kind of goes downhill from then on.

Jaemin already knows that the break from promotions won’t last forever, and to some extent he doesn’t want it to. He’s been away from the stage for long enough to understand that it’s where he wants to belong. But the rest is nice. It gives him enough time to recover from his light cold and build up his stamina for arguably the most strenuous choreography he has had to perform so far.

One day, he comes back from the gym to a half-empty dorm, the ticks of a metronome echoing through it. The owner of it is no other than Lucas, sitting cross-legged on Jisung’s bed. Jisung himself lies in a makeshift pillow fort construction on the floor like the weirdo he is.

Jaemin knocks on the open door for the sake of keeping up appearances. Immediately, Lucas spots him. (Jisung offers a wave without looking up.)

And then:

“Nana!” he calls out, not quiet, but in that cute, sing-song-y way when he had first asked about the nickname.

Jaemin’s eyes feel like they’re going to pop out of their sockets. Not for the first time in his life, but the first time in quite a while, he feels absolutely and utterly overwhelmed. His fingers itching with the desire to squeeze, Jaemin's only solution is to go right past Lucas with a smile and a nod and throw himself onto Jisung.

“Hello there,” he murmurs, attempting to cuddle the younger into his chest despite Jisung’s battle to free himself. It doesn’t last very long.

“All your fault, Lucas hyung,” Jisung yells into the fabric of Jaemin’s shirt, recognizing that he’s better off going along with Jaemin’s antics before he tires himself out completely. “I don’t know why you even asked me to help you with your rap.”

Jaemin turns his attention to Lucas, curiously awaiting his response, but not asking further. Never asking further.

“I want to improve,” tick-tock-tick-tock. “This verse is a lot longer than what I‘ve worked with before. I feel… responsible, you know?”

Tick-tock. Jaemin thinks about how he hasn’t really spent time with Lucas in this kind of setting since the VLive. Their only overlapping class is, ironically, Chinese, and unless one of them intended to seek the other out, the only casual way to hang out was if Lucas came over to the Dream dorm for movie night. But then he usually wasn’t the only one.

Jaemin was doing a good job with burying the memory of Lucas’s giggles directed at him deepdeepdeep, deeper than whatever muscle memory of his. Lucas being loud, completely unnecessarily so, with half of his sandwich still unchewed in his mouth, Jaemin convinces himself that he finds it disgusting and annoying. Tick-tock. Just like when Jaehyun hyung picks his nose or Youngho hyung drops food on the dusty carpet, ponders if it’s worth it for at least five minutes and ends up eating it anyway. So what if Jaemin has bought a Cantonese phrasebook because Kun offhandedly mentioned to him that it’s the language Lucas talks in his sleep in? He’s just extending his horizons; languages come quite easily to him.

But then Lucas pouts. Not that ridiculous duckface he pulls to make others laugh, or the _sexy lips_ pout that shows off his two buck teeth. In comparison, this pout is harmless, casual even. But that’s exactly what it is about it ‒ the honesty, edges of frustration with himself bleeding into it ‒ that pulls on Jaemin’s metaphorical heart strings so harshly that he just. Gives in.

 Letting Jisung go, his cries of victory unheard, Jaemin stands up, leans forward and cups Lucas’s full cheeks with both hands.

“That’s cute of you,” he says. Lucas barely has to lift his head because he’s just that tall even sat, the adorable bastard. Smiles up at him and him only, so it feels, because Jaemin has been looking in the opposite direction whenever he sees Lucas’s eyes wrinkle.

He might have it all wrong, but he hasn’t ever seen Lucas look quite so hopeful.

“To worry about getting it right,” Jaemin adds, trying to not make it sound like an afterthought. “But they gave you this verse for a reason. Because they knew you could pull it off. Because you have the right tone for it and because with a bit of practice you _can_ make it sound awesome. As long as you don’t give up along the way.”

“Really… Nana?” Lucas wants to know. His breath flutters against Jaemin’s palms as a reminder that Jaemin mustn’t let himself get carried away, and so he pulls his hands down to his shoulders. A gesture slightly more friendly, he hopes.

“ _Absolutely_ ,” Jaemin says, and the way he intentionally butchers the Mandarin pronunciation makes Lucas laugh.

The metronome keeps ticking.

 

* *

 

Jaemin hadn’t meant for that to be a signal for Lucas to… do whatever it is he does now in order to be close to Jaemin, but it seems as though it was exactly what Lucas was waiting for.

Before practices for Black on Black kick in, Lucas regularly forgets to return to his dorm at least three days a week. Chenle snitches on Jaemin’s interest in Cantonese. Naturally, Lucas takes it upon himself to bring Jaemin to the “international level” he himself is on.

 _Lucas_ becomes _Yukhei_ after weeks of language study sessions, impromptu snack runs past the curfew, TV show binge watching and shared ice creams because Yukhei is never really in the mood for “an _entire_ one, come on, my germs are Nana-friendly”. When Yukhei asks Jaemin to wait for him after his solo rap training, Jaemin pretends to be annoyed with having to sit around with nothing to do, but is secretly overjoyed to be able to watch the boy’s lips through the glass.

For the first time since he picked up that habit, he is actually worried about getting caught doing it.

It’s Nana this, Nana that. Jaemin barges into a VLive Yukhei is doing with the other four Chinese members, and when Yukhei tries to introduce him as Nana, it feels weird. Although the nickname wasn’t given to him _by_ Yukhei, and thus will never exclusively belong to him, Jaemin is used to hearing it in the privacy of his bed or the dorm’s couch, overheated laptop balancing on both of their knees, conversation flowing easily enough to overshadow the plot of whatever they’re watching.

If Yukhei’s missing the exact Korean word for what he’s trying to express, they’ll go through all the languages and gestures they know together. If Jaemin’s up late practicing his facial expressions in the bathroom mirror, Yukhei will barge in without knocking ‒ tell him what looks good, what looks scary, what looks funny, and what is “ARGH! NANA IS SO CUTE, WHAT TO DO!!”

Honestly, that’s the kind of inner reaction Yukhei evokes from Jaemin on a daily basis.

 

* *

 

After the approximately hundred-and-seventh time they do an entire run-through of Black on Black, Jaemin is thoroughly tired.

It doesn’t come as a surprise to him, but it becomes increasingly hard to hide the exhaustion from everyone else. He can’t rationalize the fake smiles, lips stretched too thin, and the breezy _i’mokay’_ s. It’s just something he feels he owes them, his members. They work so hard. They would probably go on strike if Jaemin showed even the slightest hint of discomfort, and so he doesn’t.

The bass of the music drowns out his pants as Taeyong, Yuta, Doyoung, Jaehyun and Donghyuck fill the practice room with the squeaky noises made by their feet. The formation has Jaemin pretty much stand next to Yukhei for the duration of Taeyong’s verse. It’s not long, but long enough for Yukhei to pull weird faces in Jaemin’s direction and make him double over.

“LUCAS!” Somebody yells. Next thing they know, Mark’s verse is over, Yukhei has long since missed his cue and, by extension, so has Jaemin.

Youngho comes up to Yukhei, pats his shoulder. “Everything okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yukhei says. Dismissively almost, but Jaemin hopes it’s just because he’s trying not to laugh.

“Alright, let’s take it from the top,” Youngho yells. A few of the members hurry to gulp down some water before they go through the choreography again, without interruptions this time.

As everyone finds their rightful places in the start formation, Jaemin catches Youngho muster him apprehensively.

He doesn’t look particularly angry. Doesn’t look threatening, either. But it causes Yukhei’s attempts to catch Jaemin’s attention go unnoticed, anyway.

  
Some hours later: 

“Everyone, you may be dismissed,” Taeyong proposes. In a distant corner of the practice room, somebody small flops onto the floor (possibly Donghyuck). From outside cicadas’ dull singsong can be heard, pinpointing the time almost as precisely as the phones left behind in the dorms. Jaemin’s shirt clings so uncomfortably tight to his torso that he has to fight the irrational thought to rip it off right then and there. But just like the rest of the members (Donghyuck excluded), he stands still, sweat dripping.

“He’s gonna say _but_ ,” a voice quips nearby in a murmur. Jaemin doesn’t even need to turn his head to know who it belongs to; only Ten would dare make fun of Taeyong while he’s in the same room. The Dreamies are smart enough to do it behind his back, for the most part.

“But.”

Ten uses Jaemin’s shoulder as a place to rest his elbow on in order to mask the fact that he has to muffle himself. His giggles are quiet enough, only to be heard by Jaemin and Jaehyun on his other side. From Ten’s sudden mewl Jaemin deduces that Jaehyun slapped his arm to get him to be silent.

“But‒” Jaehyun starts giggling, himself.

“I think all of you know that we are nowhere near being music-show-ready. So I would highly encourage most of you to stay behind, or come back later, to work on your own execution,” Taeyong insists. “So long as none of you overwork yourself.”

“That’s right,” Youngho adds, stepping into the front, next to Taeyong. “Stay hydrated ‒ that’s super important ‒ and I want all of you to eat a lot for dinner. Even greasy food, if you feel like it.”

Taeyong laughs. “You shouldn’t have said that,” is what Jaemin thinks he’s exclaiming, but it’s hard to tell through the cheers of seventeen excited, hungry boys. Somewhere amongst those, he swears he can hear Yukhei’s favorite boisterous catchphrase, and it makes him smile.

Then he remembers the little incident earlier, with Yukhei getting distracted being a distraction to him. The smile slips from his face. Jaemin feels like an asshole for not immediately checking for Yukhei’s reaction, even though rationally, he knows he can’t be blamed ‒ he’s not the most intuitive dancer, he needs to be paying attention at all times. But the urge to take care of Yukhei, to call _him_ , and not what he does, as a farce, cute; to cradle him in his arms, it only gets stronger by the day. Should it grow any bigger, Jaemin ponders, he might have to try distancing himself for a while. But how would he go about that without hurting Yukhei, who seems to be genuinely enjoying spending time with him?

The answer to that inquiry can wait. While most aim for the door, Jaemin makes his way over to the mirror, where Yukhei stands.

“Hey, Nana,” Yukhei greets him loudly, before he can even find himself in the close proximity of the taller boy. Chenle looks up from his position on the floor and chuckles quietly, his energy seemingly drained, unlike Yukhei’s.

“Hey,” Jaemin rasps out. He takes in Yukhei’s messy hair, his big, red ears sticking out endearingly. “You look like an elf.”

“And here I was, wanting to tell you that you look like a tomato, but that sounds like an insult compared to ‘elf’,” Yukhei whines, faux-offended. Jaemin almost forgets he _actually_ wronged him.

“You’re too big to be an elf,” Chenle insists.

“I wouldn’t care about that, if it meant I wasn’t too big to be in NCT Dream, too.”

Chenle and Jaemin laugh at that, then Chenle pats Yukhei’s thigh to get his attention. He sticks out his arm and gets lifted to his feet so strongly that he ends up leaning all of his weight on Yukhei, almost nuzzling his neck.

Jaemin expects to feel some kind of bitterness or jealousy at the way the younger can hang off Yukhei so freely, like it’s nothing, but then again, he was never one to feel that way. It takes him a second before he can identify the _pang_ in his chest. Jaemin understands it as longing, and the smile itching itself into his cheeks as his typical reaction to seeing something sickeningly cute.

(Is this too big, too deep?)

“Xuxi, the die-hard Dream fan,” Jaemin teases, poking Yukhei’s cheek. A quiet “right” can be heard from Chenle, still tucked into Yukhei’s side.

Something unexpected happens, then. Jaemin pokes and prods and tugs at the soft skin, and pokes and prods‒ until long fingers enclose his wrist, pulling it down and away, but never letting it go.

Jungwoo joins the three. He strikes up a conversation about his nerves before big performances. Chenle insists on giving him advice, squaring his shoulders and calling upon Yaja Time in order to help Jungwoo more effectively. Yukhei accidentally makes a Chinese pun while reminiscing about the time they played it in Ukraine, and Kun comes along to explain it more eloquently.

Jaemin laughs whenever appropriate, but he can’t focus on anything other than Yukhei’s soft fingertips caressing the inner side of his wrist, hoping he can’t feel his pulse. Hoping the others don’t ask. Hoping he doesn’t have to be the one to pull away.

 

* *

 

Later that week, Jaemin finds himself being pulled out of near-sleep by somebody shaking him by the shoulders.

“Hey,” the person calls quietly. “Wake up.”

“I’m awake, ugh,” Jaemin murmurs grumpily. He was really looking forward to going to sleep earlier than usual, after all.

Not only was he put on cooking duty for the Dreamies today; somehow, one hyung after another decided to join them without contributing much to making sure there was a sufficient amount of food at the ready. Jaemin doesn’t mind, knowing he has freeloaded off Kun or Taeyong more times than he can count on both hands and feet. They are all close enough to refrain from keeping tabs on favors like these, and Jaemin loves the way his friends' faces light up at the taste of the food he makes. But exhaustion still weighs heavily on Jaemin’s shoulders, settles in the pit of his stomach and at the base of his spine like a ton of bricks.

Yukhei makes this noise that has Jaemin’s foggy mind in doubt about whether he’s laughing or suffocating. After Jaemin is able to process that Yukhei is not in any immediate danger, he kind of loathes himself for being able to tell that it’s Yukhei just by that sound, even though it’s not unique to him whatsoever.

“ _Come on_ , you can insult me all you want as long as you get up.”

“What d’you even want?”

“Rooftop‒ that cool room, you promised to go with me,” Yukhei whines.

Jaemin whines in response.

“Let’s go,” Yukhei declares frantically and finally manages to pull Jaemin up and out of his bed by his hand.

They climb up a set of stairs, hand in hand still.

The view in front of them turns out to be as magnificent as expected. The area is full to the brim with flowers ‒ their colors dull in the wake of the moon ‒, hedges, small trees and other shrubbery. Everything is trimmed a little too carefully to be able to complete the impression of a hidden jungle, but Jaemin enjoys the way the greens blend together with the inky blue of the sky, the yellow-oranges of the city lights, the silhouette of Seoul’s skyline.

“Do you like it?” Yukhei asks, disconnecting his fingers from Jaemin’s.

Jaemin turns to look at Yukhei. He wants to see how long the elder will hold his gaze for. “I do,” he nods in approval.

“ _Nice_ ,” Yukhei calls out, walking ahead. Two chairs are located conveniently right by the balustrade, partly hidden by the leaves of something that resembles a palm tree.

Jaemin isn’t surprised in the slightest when Yukhei plops down and leans back comfortably, a soft smile on his face, legs spread like it’s nobody’s business. But he doesn’t follow.

“Xuxi. What are we here for?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you bring me here?” Jaemin asks, voice deep and steady.

“Oh,” Yukhei sighs out in something akin to relief. “I just wanted to hang out with you.”

“Here?” Jaemin points to the flowers around them. He tries to stay serious, he really does. He thinks there’s something unspoken there, something that needs to be said out loud for both of their sakes; and if anyone has to take the initiative, it will be him.

But Yukhei pulls out a couple of candies from the pockets of his joggers, and once Jaemin holds one in his hand, he pats his knees. Says nothing. Jaemin swallows it down, justifying that maybe he’s wrong. No matter how evenly their affection for each other may be matched, there’s no way to tell right now whether Yukhei sees something more in him.

Except there is one way to try and tickle it out of him, and Jaemin will take full advantage of it.

So Jaemin takes up Yukhei’s silent invitation and sits in his lap, blatantly ignoring the chair standing just a few meters away with an easy grin on his face. The thighs beneath him are soft and slide a little closer together to make it more comfortable for Jaemin.

It’s reasonably cold for how late it’s getting, so Jaemin feels that it’s simply rational to say, “I think you should put your hands on my waist, so I don’t fall off.”

Yukhei giggles. Even as he does what he’s told he continues to giggle. The shaking of his body should feel unpleasant to someone literally sitting on top of his legs, but Jaemin can’t find it in him to mind. It is as though Yukhei insists on always going against what is expected of him ‒ against what Jaemin thinks he’s capable of feeling towards his dorky self, the boundaries he sets to protect himself all go down the drain when they are close like this.

They spend a few minutes in silence, Yukhei coming down from his laughing high. Instead of ceasing to move at all, he purposefully rocks Jaemin back and forth now. Jaemin lets him, growing accustomed to it.

“I wanted to ask you this for some time now,” Yukhei says, finally. “How is your back doing?”

Jaemin chuckles, his eyebrows rising against his own accord. “This is, like, the last thing I expected you to be curious about.”

Yukhei actually pouts at that. “Any person who knows you should be.”

Jaemin hums. “Maybe they’re trying to be careful. Don’t want to remind me of it.”

“Does it work?”

“No,” Jaemin finds himself saying. “It still aches sometimes, so.”

It’s not that he doesn’t care about worrying Yukhei. If it were up to Jaemin, he would not have a single worry in the world, walking around with a smile on his face that he wouldn’t have to put on like clothes in the morning. However, there is something about the way the two of them connect that makes Jaemin actively want to be truthful. Almost like he knows Yukhei won’t betray the trust put in him. That is another thing he is sure goes both ways, if the secrets Yukhei tells him are any indicator.

(“It was never about being someone my mom could look up to; I just knew she would never ask me to provide for my family, so I did it anyway.” “I can’t relate to people from Thailand, and I can’t really relate to people from mainland China, either. I just end up feeling like the odd one out.”)

Yukhei’s hands slide upwards along the line of Jaemin’s spine. For a short moment, Jaemin feels invincible.

“Are you trying to heal me?” he wonders.

Yukhei smiles.

“I have a better idea for that. Have you ever tried traditional medicine?”

“Not really,” Jaemin admits and slides his hands upwards too, until they rest, fingers interlocked, on Yukhei’s nape.

“We call it, um, zhēn biān.” If it’s satisfaction Jaemin feels at hearing Yukhei stutter over the Mandarin, even though it could very well be attributed to him trying to remember the correct intonation, that’s nobody’s business.

“That means… to critique?”

“Wow, you’ve really been learning,” Yukhei deadpans, clearly surprised. Jaemin pinches his nose, complaining about his lack of faith. “But it’s also this practice with sharp stones. Put pressure on specific points of your body to treat complaints of pain.”

“Ah, acupuncture. You’ve been learning, too,” Jaemin notes. Yukhei lights up at the acknowledgement. “And you must have put thought into this.”

“My younger brother was into it for a while, and he reminded me of it the last time we were on the phone.”

“You talk about me to your brother then, huh?” Jaemin says, hands squishing Yukhei’s cheeks. This reaction he predicts correctly: Yukhei flails about, as much as he can with Jaemin weighing him down, mumbling nonsense in an attempt to defend himself. Maybe he would have pushed Jaemin away if it weren’t for their positions.

Or maybe, just maybe, would he have continued to gravitate into Jaemin’s orbit despite his embarrassment?

“Admit it,” Jaemin demands, “admit it!”

And all Yukhei can do is laugh and turn red ‒ his ears do, anyway.

“Do you talk to him about anyone else, then?”

“Just a little,” Yukhei breathes out. Their faces are so close now that Jaemin can feel it.

“Yeah? Who is it?” Jaemin challenges, his voice barely above a whisper.

This is it, he thinks. This is the moment in which everything that has been building up between them collapses, only to give way to something even sturdier, better, brighter. Every touch, every _Nana_ , every _Xuxi_. Every night spent sharing a bed, every time Yukhei singled him out in a room full of people, every time Jaemin waited up for him after his schedules with NCT U. Every time Jaemin willed himself not to get his hopes up, wouldn’t let himself fantasize about kissing Yukhei’s big knuckles and pouty lips…

“LEE SOOMAN!”

And then Jaemin is pushed off and left alone. On the rooftop, amongst the beautiful flowers. To battle the cold and confusion.

 

* *

 

In hindsight, it is really not all that confusing.

“There are only two ways to interpret what he did. One, he thought everything I did ‒ everything _he_ did ‒ was meant to be one hundred percent platonic and I read into it with my wishful thinking.”

“Let me stop you there for a second,” Renjun interjects, accompanying his words with a tap on Jaemin’s thigh. Or what he rightfully assumes to be his thigh, since Jaemin is currently looking more like a burrito-shaped pile of duvets and blankets than a human being with pronounced limbs.

Jaemin can feel his face contort in a dissatisfied expression. But he wouldn’t be here, in Jeno and Renjun’s shared room, if he didn’t want to listen to what the latter has to say.

“I know Xuxi usually comes off as a big baby with the emotional intelligence of a smelly sock.” Jaemin blinks, unsure if he should laugh or reprimand Renjun for his unkind assessment. “Specifically, that smelly sock with a questionably-looking stain that you have no idea where it came from, and you don’t know if you ever owned a second sock like that to begin with.”

“You know‒” Jaemin tries to interrupt.

“But,” Renjun interrupts him back. “I need you to remember that that’s not all there is to him. Do you really, honestly think he would have let you sit in his lap, just to pick out one example, without knowing what it means?”

Jaemin sighs. “It doesn’t have to mean anything other than physical affection between two people.”

“You’re just being stubborn on purpose,” Renjun decides, dismissing the idea momentarily.

The words are mumbled like a confession against the blanket that clings to Jaemin’s face like a hood: “Maybe so.”

Renjun shifts further to the left on the floor, coming more or less face-to-face with Jaemin in his elevated position. Something about making him feel safer that way, even if it comes at the cost of Renjun’s precious behind.

“Permission to be honest?” he asks quietly.

Jaemin smiles, even though it’s a little strained around the edges. The sensation of fondness fills his chest. It reminds him how lucky he is to have Renjun as a friend.

“Permission granted.”

“Okay,” Renjun says, and tries to meet Jaemin’s eyes. He looks small, cautious, as though what he has to say next is the type of information that one is told to brace himself, sit down for.

“I think you’re just scared he doesn’t feel the same way.”

Jaemin halts. “That’s kind of obvious. Is that all you wanted to‒”

“I was slowly getting to the part where I make you understand how embarrassed you will be later on about sitting here and sulking about a boy,” Renjun deadpans.

“Ugh, Injun, I love you.”

Renjun sighs, prioritizing the topic at hand over responding to that. “I remember how you acted around him back when we first debuted, Jaemin-ah. Hostile, almost. Even though just days before you came up to me to gush about how cute you thought he was. As if you flicked a switch to turn off your emotions, but we both know it doesn’t work like that.”

Jaemin can’t help but think that sometimes, he wishes it would.

“You’d go up to him and confront him, but… you’ve spent so long trying _not_ to let yourself like him, am I right?” Renjun proposes, voice soft, knowing that it would send Jaemin into‒

“That’s not… no way! …   _huh_.” ‒ denial.

So he lets the statement sink in for now.

“Coming back to your initial argument, since we have decided that he must be aware of the tension between you two, it boils down to two options. One, he doesn’t feel the same, so he ran because he didn’t know how to let you down gently.” Jaemin winces.

“Bad things first, yes. Because here’s the more realistic explanation,” Renjun theorizes. Jaemin has half a mind to note that he is more enthusiastic about this than he should be. “Imagine you’re trying to come to terms that you have a crush on a guy for the first time, and then said guy tries to kiss you and all of your newfound emotional stability goes to hell.”

“And the first person you can think of is the CEO of the company both of you are under.”

Renjun throws his head back, chuckles spilling from his lips. He quickly collects himself though, because, “if you’re thinking about how you’re missing the way he laughs or some nonsense along the lines, I’m never giving you advice again”.

(Jaemin assures him that he would never, but he’s not sure he means it.)

“Look, I think you shouldn’t worry so much. Either it will fall into place, in a good way, or you will go back to how you were before all this. The promotions are almost over, anyway.”

“You’re right.”

“I know I am. Question is, do you think you’ll keep dwelling on it?”

“Injun, I… I don’t dwell on it when we’re on stage or in front of the camera. It doesn’t keep me up at night. I’m fine, really.”

Renjun presses his lips together. “I can’t force anything out of you when you’re like this.”

Jaemin swallows slowly, audibly. “Just tell me one thing. How much more space do I need to give him?”

“I don’t know. Xuxi used to always come to you… I’m still surprised it’s taking him so long to go back to his old ways.”

“Old ways,” Jaemin scoffs. “It was, like, two months.”

Renjun shrugs his shoulders. “I guess we just got used it to it that quickly.”

Unknowingly, Renjun sums up the whole root of Jaemin’s problem. Jaemin knows better than dramatic proclamations about not being able to live without Yukhei, typical for those stupid dramas they would watch after a long day to unwind and poke fun at. It’s just that ‒ case in point ‒ everything reminds Jaemin of him and of how comfortable it was, existing in the same space, instead of dorm buildings and awkward greetings and eyes locked straight ahead during performances marking the distance between them.

It’s been a week, and a busy one at that. Jaemin still finds time to miss Yukhei.

 

* *

 

It’s not Yukhei who approaches Jaemin first, but Jungwoo, and it happens in the most coming-of-age-movie-set-in-a-high-school-cliché way possible.

“Jaemin-ah, hey.”

That must be Jungwoo’s idea of not trying to preoccupy him with a _Can we talk_ or _I have something to tell you._ It’s not so much the choice of words, and most definitely not the choice of setting that calms Jaemin’s nerves, if the Music Bank bathroom cubicles were ever capable of it. Jungwoo doesn’t radiate tranquility at all times, but when he does, it’s genuine and contagious.

“Hey, hyung,” Jaemin greets.

Jungwoo smiles somewhat mischievously. “I’ll cut to the chase. A little birdy talked to Johnny hyung, who talked to Jaehyunnie, who talked to me. Whatever worst case scenario you must be imagining in your head by now, it isn’t true. But I’m afraid he’s going to need a little push.”

“How do I know you’re not making this up as some ploy?”

“Does it make a difference, so long as it’s effective?”

Jaemin senses that this is a strictly _yes_ question.

 

So he does what Jungwoo tells him to. After all eighteen members assemble in the exit hall, his eyes automatically seek out Yukhei. And through the lump in his throat, Jaemin walks up to him, links their arms together and manages a tentative, “Hey.”

The speed at which Yukhei’s panicked pupils move from side to side would be comical, if it weren’t so discouraging. The last thing Jaemin wants is to force himself onto someone who wants nothing to do with him. It’s why he’s such a creature of habit. Why he likes memorabilia to remind his friends of his existence. Why he tries not to but ultimately gets attached to people so much that it pains him when they begin distancing themselves.

Jaemin doesn’t ask for much. Just for someone to care for, and that someone caring for him in return, in the same way, with no limits.

Of course, part of the reason behind why Jaemin became an idol is to express himself in a creative manner and having that resonate with people. But sometimes, it just helps to know and be reminded that you’re _loved_. That the sight of your smile is enough to have cameras shuttering and people screaming. That somewhere, maybe on the other side of the planet, a faceless person is thinking of you and cheering you on. He doesn’t owe them anything other than gratitude and hard work and manifestation of the love that is sent his way, and those are things that don’t have to become a chore if he doesn’t let them. (He does his best. It doesn’t always work.)

Jaemin feels loved when Renjun threatens to put him in a headlock for being stubborn, voice growing louder out of concern and desperation to help. He feels loved when Jeno stutters over admitting how important their friendship is to him because he’s bad at expressing his feelings, but knows exactly when Jaemin needs to hear it. When Chenle notices the little things, like the muscle mass he’s been trying to build up. When Jisung distracts him from reading negative comments with sighs and hugs he usually runs from. When Mark monitors their stages until late into the night because he pays more attention to Jaemin than himself so he can give him constructive feedback. When Donghyuck texts him first, offering to practice or go for a snack run to have uninterrupted quality time even during promotions.

The list goes on. Jaemin reminds himself that no matter what happens between Yukhei and him today, the other members will have his back. But just like he wouldn’t forget everything the fans did for him, couldn’t give up on them, he doesn’t want to give up on Yukhei without a fight. Doesn’t want to give up the bond they managed to build and everything they could be in the future.

“Hey,” Yukhei echoes deeply, quietly.

“Can I sit next to you in the car?”

Yukhei gulps. Jaemin feels the tension in his body thrum through their point of contact, his own heart racing, pumping‒

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

The smile they share makes Jaemin’s cheeks feel sore.

(In the car, several pairs of eyes are on them. It’s hard to tune them out at first. Feeling Yukhei’s fingers that are splayed out on his own thigh brush his, it becomes increasingly easier, until Jaemin dares to put his hand over Yukhei’s with purpose. _It doesn’t have to be anything other than a gesture of reassurance_ , Jaemin tries to convey with his eyes. Pointer finger slowly caressing a thumb almost twice its size, as though trying to tame an animal, _don’t run from me_.

Fingers rising to intertwine, to squeeze. _I won’t. I’m right here.)_

 

Just as things tend to be when one has something to look forward to, the car ride stretches endlessly long. Jaemin sorts through the explanations he thinks he needs to give, treating them like fragile pages in a photo album, taking each into consideration.

So when Yukhei breaks the silence that followed them to Jaemin’s bed they’re sitting on, messes all of the calculations and expectations up, all Jaemin can think is:

As usual.

“Do you remember when you used to dislike me?”

“When?” He plays dumb.

“A while back,” Yukhei says. His voice is still so unusually void of emotion and quiet that it makes the hairs on Jaemin’s arms stand up. “When you were about to debut.”

“I… I didn’t think you’d remember,” Jaemin admits breathlessly. “I was going to bring it up to explain to you why I behaved the way I did that night on the rooftop, but you beat me to it.”

“That’s because you have nothing to explain.”

Jaemin’s socked toes curl against the carpet. Just the way his stomach does.

“What are you trying to say, Xuxi?”

Yukhei slouches forward. Jaemin eyes his broad shoulders, shoulder blades prominent against the black fabric of his vest. They shake.

“I don’t know. Why is it…” Yukhei trails off. “I shouldn’t be like this,” he grits out, so clearly frustrated with himself. “I’m sorry for running away. It’s just that‒”

“I like you,” Jaemin finishes for him. Immediately, Yukhei’s shoulders sag in relief, and that’s all it takes for Jaemin to wrap his arms around him and pull him close, like he’s always wanted to.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, too, for ambushing you the way I did. And for making you think I didn’t like you when we were trainees. I didn’t realize what I was doing at the time, honestly. I just didn’t‒ was scared to get too close to you, because I didn’t think I could handle the consequences. It sounds so stupid when I say it now, I swear.”

“I thought we would go back to that because of me,” Yukhei confesses into Jaemin’s bicep. “I’m sorry, I was scared, too…”

Jaemin shushes him gently. “It’s okay, you’re okay. You don’t have to be sorry. Can I hug you, instead?”

Yukhei turns around in Jaemin’s arms, manoeuvring so that he kneels before the bed in order to be face-to-neck. Jaemin looks at Yukhei from above with the brightest, happiest smile he is physically capable of. Even though he’s not the one being held, he feels so safe. The knot inside of him dissolves into contentedness and warmth, and he hopes it transfers to Yukhei as he kisses the top of his head.

Yukhei blinks slowly, as though he’s suddenly processing his surroundings for the first time. Jaemin can’t help but pout at the adorable sight.

“You’re so cute,” Yukhei mumbles, and closes his eyes before tucking his face into Jaemin’s neck again. “Like a puppy.”

Jaemin laughs. “If I’m a puppy, what are you, then?”

Yukhei hums, running his fingers up Jaemin’s arm to cup his cheek. (His hands are so big, he practically ends up holding his entire face.)

“I don’t know,” Yukhei admits.

Jaemin breathes in, out, and back in, before he realizes he’s allowed to lean into his touch.

“But,” he says. 

“We can figure that out together, can’t we?”

 

* *

 

The month of May is a hectic one for all of the members.

There is only a week left until the NCT 2018 fan party, days and nights taken up by practices. Jaemin spends a snack break with Jaehyun and they come back snickering about Doyoung revising ments even in his sleep. Less than a week from then they’re doing another, full-fledged concert with all the units. All three dorms begin smelling more like coffee and energy drinks than usual.

Relatively speaking, neither Jaemin nor Yukhei are the busiest. They’re not the ones set to go to Japan, Thailand, Russia or New York. But being swept in by the chaos only proves appropriate to their decision to take things slow, as the moments they have together are only ever with others in the room.

On the other hand, they start texting a lot more. Jaemin remains true to his nature and gives Yukhei a sickeningly cute nickname with as many heart emojis as he can fit (and won’t let it be until Yukhei does the same for him, too). They stay up later than they should like this, cuddled into the duvets of their beds, sending Kakaotalk emoticons back and forth with the occasional voice message. One of Jaemin’s most entertaining pastimes becomes recording himself saying pick-up lines and watching Yukhei respond in half-angry, half-amused key smashes.

On nights that are a bit darker, a bit more honest, Jaemin’s fingers against the touchscreen betray the things he wants to do.

How he wants to press himself against Yukhei’s back, wrap his arms around him and kiss behind his ear when he sees him lean against the mirror in the practice room. _I’m sweaty and gross then_ , Yukhei writes back, no smileys, no emoticons. But Jaemin’s learned to read between the lines. The fact that it took him five minutes to write those words, during which he hadn’t left the chat for even a second, means that he wants it just as much.

_What are we so scared of?_

_I don’t know…_

_Me neither._

So when the sun rises, and Jaemin awakens from no more than two hours of sleep, twisting and turning and thinking, he decides to throw at least some of the caution to the wind. He makes his way across halls and past doors quietly, sneakily. Hopes that the door doesn’t creak, because he’s not ready to deal with a grumpy Jungwoo so early in the morning. The door doesn’t creak, but Jaemin almost does ‒ squeak, that is.

It’s Yukhei, standing a few feet away from him in the kitchen, side profile soft against the grey cupboards.

“Xuxi,” Jaemin calls out. He does it quietly, so as to not disrupt both the stillness of the dorm and the serene state Yukhei seems to be in.

But Yukhei hears him and turns around immediately. His eyes widen. He looks so precious in that moment that it makes Jaemin’s chest ache like a missing limb, feet moving forward of their own accord.

An unintelligible noise of excitement is the last thing Jaemin can hear before he is being lifted off his two own feet and up into the air. Reflexively, he manages to wrap his legs around Yukhei’s hips and hold on to a random hook protruding from the wall, and luckily, too, because Yukhei... almost drops him.

“Dumbass,” Jaemin curses, trying not to laugh.

“ _Sorry, I’m sorry,_ ” Yukhei brings out between fits of noiseless chuckles. He readjusts Jaemin’s legs to steady him, caressing his ice cold ankles until they warm up to some semblance of room temperature.

Neither of them says anything for a while.

Jaemin takes a moment to just breathe. Take in every feature of Yukhei’s, his fluffy bedhair, goofy smile, ears flushed pink. Allow himself to get used to Yukhei’s arms both holding and holding him up, and to Yukhei staring right back at him. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that the same fondness blooming in his chest is echoed in Yukhei’s eyes.

For the first time since they made up, Jaemin really _feels_ the mutual affection between them without even having to put it into words, because the necessary words have already been spoken.

That doesn’t mean what Yukhei says next isn’t balm to Jaemin’s ego, though.

“Nana,” he starts. He never really stopped saying it in that cute sing-song-y way, and Jaemin adores it. “I really, really like you. So much.”

“Baby… put me down?” Yukhei juts his lower lip as far as it can go. “Come on, your arms will be sore for the rest of the day.”

“You didn’t even say it back!”

“I will, if you‒” Jaemin is interrupted by Yukhei turning them around and setting him down on the kitchen counter. “This is not what I asked for.”

Yukhei hums and leans his head against Jaemin’s chest. “Let’s just stay like this for a while, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin sighs out contentedly, hugging the taller close. “I’ve missed this.”

“So you’ve told me in our chat.”

Jaemin smacks the back of Yukhei’s neck, immediately soothing it with gentle fingertips that find their way into dark brown hair. “When did you get so brave?”

Yukhei just giggles and moves his arms in a way that Jaemin takes as him shrugging his shoulders. Truthfully, Jaemin doesn’t mind, because it implies them having grown to feel more comfortable with each other.

“It’s just,” Yukhei responds, after all. “I feel like an air balloon when I’m with you.”

“Peek romance, Xuxi,” Jaemin remarks and hypocritically pecks his temple.

“Do you know what I mean, though? I feel so light. Like nothing bad can touch me.”

“I wanna hear you say that when it’s summer and they’ll put you in tank tops so you’ll have to spend hours at the gym.”

“Stooop,” Yukhei whines. “I’ll drag you with me.”

“No objections here,” Jaemin says.

He taps the side of Yukhei’s jaw, getting him to look up. Face-to-face again, but much closer, Jaemin slowly closes the distance between them. There is enough time for Yukhei to opt out, tell Jaemin to stop, but no such thing happens. Seconds drag on torturously, anticipation electrifying Jaemin’s fingertips, sizzling on Yukhei’s skin like wildfire.

And then their lips meet.

The angle is off. Yukhei’s nose is in the way, and Jaemin is too fixated on how loud his breathing must be if he’s able to hear it over the sound of his rapid heartbeat, too worried about the last time he used chapstick. Neither of them really have an idea of how to move in sync, either. But the tenderness of the kiss, the knowledge that this is just for them more than makes up for it.

“You have to know, you make me so happy,” Jaemin says the moment they part. “Just looking at you from across the room makes any bad day a good one.”

If Yukhei’s ears weren’t pink before, they’re definitely bright red now.

“You’re so precious, so talented, so hard-working,” Jaemin pinches Yukhei’s cheek with an enamored smile. “And everyone can tell. First it’s Knowing Brothers. Next you’re gonna take over the world.”

Yukhei screeches like a badly oiled door and leans down to hide his face in Jaemin’s neck. Jaemin laughs quietly, reasoning that at least one of them has to be mindful of their volume.

“The episode hasn’t even been shot yet.”

“Mhm, I have faith that it will go well. But anyway, where was I?” Jaemin says conversationally, grinning at Yukhei’s muffled noises of protest. “Right! NCT is so lucky to have you, the fans are so lucky to have someone like you to look up to. But‒”

He takes a moment to pause then.

Jaemin doesn’t know it yet, but they will last longer than he would have ever expected. They will last through Yukhei going off to China for photoshoots and pre-recordings, and later a full-fledged debut with the new unit. The distance will be tough, and they will snap at each other more than a few times, but come back to their senses all the same (Renjun will not remain uninvolved). Yukhei will often have to leave Jaemin behind ‒ before it starts being the other way round, once Dream start their promotions, going from one music show to another. Yukhei will worship Jaemin’s freshly dyed cotton candy hair, Jaemin laughing at Yukhei’s Minho-esque haircut and how Yukhei attempts to run his fingers through a mane that isn’t there anymore. All until he realizes Yukhei truly does feel uncomfortable and rushes to comfort and reassure him that he would look just as striking with his head completely bald. (“Don’t give them any ideas, Jaemin-ah, please.”) Yukhei never really stops being flustered, much to Yukhei’s disdain and Jaemin’s delight, because that is one button Jaemin refuses to leave alone.

Amidst their neverending schedules, it feels like they’re both running out of time and can’t get enough of it. One thing is for sure: they definitely can’t get enough of each other. (Unless Yukhei wakes Jaemin up at crack of dawn again, be it physically or by being too present in his thoughts.)

“But,“ Yukhei says resolutely. “I’m the lucky one.“

Jaemin shakes his head and mentally postpones the discussion to a later time. Right now, they need to make the best out of every minute ticking away before Kun and Jungwoo wake up.

So he smiles, and says: “How about we try the kissing thing again?“

And they do.

(The sun rises.)


End file.
